


And It Cut Me Deep; Hearing You'd Gone Away

by MellytheHun



Series: Tumblr Sterek Prompts [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fighting, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Up, Mentions of Abusers, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Prompt Fic, Scott is a Good Friend, Tumblr Prompt, Verbal Abuse, Verbal bullying, mentions of abuse, physical fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 15:46:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11039283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellytheHun/pseuds/MellytheHun
Summary: Prompts: "Things you said when I was crying." & "Things you said that made me feel like shit."





	1. Tongue Keeps Digging My Own Grave

**Author's Note:**

> TW: the argument that Stiles and Derek have is highly, highly personal and very angry. They really go for each other's throats and when I put 'emotional abuse,' in the tags, I mean it - the fight is very mean and cutthroat. Read carefully <3

“I _knew_ it! This is _your_ fault!” Stiles sneers.

Scott is too scraped and beaten down to try to intervene. Derek’s thick brows are drawn in tight, his bloodied and healing face stern and he doesn't look quite like he wants to respond.

“It’s another woman you’ve fucked, isn’t it?” Stiles interrogates, getting up close to crowd into Derek’s space, “I don’t even get why we wait for the bad guys to show up! We should just get Derek’s dick hard and see what direction it points in! It’ll lead us straight to the next evil bitch that comes crawling out of the eighth ring of Hell!”

Derek glares, color rising up in his cheeks and argues, “I _don’t_ know her, Stiles.”

“Bull _shit_!” Stiles shouts shrilly, “She called you by your name!”

“That doesn’t mean I _know her_ ,” Derek bites, patience quickly wearing, “I don’t have _any_ relationship to her.”

“ _No_? None at all? Is that your _final_ answer, Derek?” Stiles snaps, shoulders round and high, “Probability and common sense sure are working against you here, pal, so I'd advise that you just own up to it! Sure you don’t wanna phone a friend for help with that, or have you incidentally gotten all of them murdered too?”

“ _Stiles_ ,” Scott mutters half-heartedly; he knows there’s no stopping Stiles when he goes off the rails like this. 

He'll get like this about his dad sometimes - sometimes he'll even act out about his mother, angry at the universe at large. He'll say regretful things, but it's mostly steam being blown off. Scott tries not to worry about it. Picking a fight with Derek Hale, though, is probably extremely ill-advised. Derek won't know that Stiles regrets these things once he's ridden the fury into the ground and he's a reactive type of personality. He'll only allow himself to be pushed around so much before biting back.

And Scott doesn't think Stiles is ready for whatever that might present itself as.

“Because it seems to me, Derek -” Stiles starts.

“Stiles -” Scott winces.

“That whatever you _stick yourself into_  -”

“ _Stiles_ ,” Scott says warningly.

Stiles throws his arm back to show Scott his palm without breaking eye-contact with Derek, “shut up, Scott!”

He swings his arm back around to point at Derek accusingly and Derek swats at the offending arm to get it out of his face. It doesn't slow Stiles down any.

“They all either _die horribly_ or turn into _psychopathic mass murderers_.”

Derek’s eyes are swimming and Stiles is half-hoping Derek loses his temper and gives him a reason to use the mountain ash in his pocket. He wants _someone_ to burn. He wants _someone_ to get hurt - he might even be trying to hurt _himself_.

“ _What_? You think I’m being _sarcastic_?” Stiles punctuates his words by pushing on Derek’s chest with both hands, “You’re a fucking _omen of death_ , Derek. You're a goddamn _harbinger_ of ruin - I'd bet real, _actual_ money on that if I were to open up one of Deaton's hoo-doo-voo-doo books and tried to find some monster that marked the coming of tragedy, it'd warn us about stupid, shitty leather jackets and an animal that relies solely on their eyebrows to communicate!"

"I _don't know_ her, Stiles!"

"Stiles, I really don't think -" Scott begins, but is cut off.

"No! One’s an incident, Paige, two’s a coincidence, Kate, and three’s a pattern, Jennifer - you know what four is, Derek?”

“ _I don’t know her_!” Derek growls, using much more force to get Stiles’ hands off him.

“Well, she knows _you_ , Big Bad, so what’s it gonna be?" Stiles shouts, arms flying out wide, "Is she some fling from New York? Another hunter you somehow didn’t manage to smell wolfsbane on til another house was on fire?”

“That’s enough, Stiles,” Scott interjects seriously.

Stiles’ eyes are welling up in frustration and fear, Derek’s muscles are wired and his mouth is a thin, grim line.

“And now she has _Lydia_ — it’s _always_ you! It’s  _always_ **_your_** fault!”

Verbal lashings is probably something Derek gives himself on a regular basis - he definitely didn't need Stiles for all of that and Scott knows that, but Stiles is still riding the high of his anxiety and rage.

Stiles can almost _see_ Derek’s control crumble like a collapsing wall around him. His eyes go dark and cold like when they first met; in an instant, he’s distant and looks lethal.

“What are you gonna do, Stiles? Cry?”

Stiles sniffs unconsciously, backing up as Derek invades his space, somehow so much more hulking than before.

“Guys -” Scott tries.

“Go ahead, Stiles,” Derek eggs on, shoving Stiles backward by his shoulders, “ _Cry_. You’re so fucking _useful_ when you’re sitting around _crying_.”

“ _Shut up_ ,” Stiles grits, unable to walk backward as fast as Derek is advancing on him.

“ _Cry_!” Derek orders, shoving Stiles’ shoulders again and sending him stumbling back a few feet, “ _Cry_ like the _self-important_ _baby_ you are. Go ahead! I invite you to! Wallow in your self-pity while I do all the _actual_ work - you know, the work involving putting your life at risk for ungrateful brats like you! I'm inviting you to speak, Stiles, please, go on! We’re all _really_ looking forward to hearing you _bitch and moan_ about being a _victim_ of circumstance and the injustice of the world because you know oh-so much about being wronged, don't you?! Go ahead and lecture _me_ on what it's like to be so unfortunate! I've lived my life on such a plush little cushion, I can't imagine what it must've been like for you, Stiles, having some remaining family and sacrificing _so much_ to make it through these hard times, like all that study time and think of all that time you could've been spending playing video games or collecting allowance money! I’m on the edge of my seat, Stiles! Enlighten me on what hardship is!”

“ _Derek_ -” Scott warns.

The fear that Derek may have finally been provoked enough to _actually_ try to hurt him causes Stiles so much immediate panic that he forgets about his mountain ash. He’s caught up in trying to keep his balance and staring into Derek’s void eyes that look about as merciful as a starved grizzly bear’s.

As a tear regretfully escapes Stiles’ eye, Derek makes a sarcastic sound of surprise and congratulates him, "perfect! Now all you need is a bib and a throne, King Baby, so you don’t have to worry about your dribble and tears staining your robes while you watch us from down that nose of yours, so far away from us peons on that high-horse!”

“Shut _the fuck up_!” Stiles shouts, shoving uselessly at Derek’s chest.

In retaliation, Derek shoves so hard at Stiles’ shoulders in return that he clumsily goes toppling to the ground. When he lands hard on his ass and looks up to Derek from under his furrowed brow and wetly clumped eyelashes, Derek mutters gravely, "it's fine. Go ahead and use my past as a weapon against me, Stiles. I’m sure your whining and crying will get you _very_ far. I’m sure Lydia would be _really_ impressed with your heroic methods.”

Derek’s fists are curled tightly at his sides and when he turns hard on his heel to walk away, Scott rushes to Stiles’ side to make sure he's not sincerely hurt beyond a bruised ego.

“Where the hell do you think you're going?” Stiles calls after him.

Derek answers, “ _away_ from _you_. You obviously don’t need my help.”

“Lydia is in danger because _of you_!” Stiles snaps.

Derek twists around at that, threat emanating off his overheated skin, his eyes luminescent, sharp and positively _furious_.

“No, Stiles, Lydia is in danger because two years ago, _you_ thought poking my sister’s _dead body with a stick_ would be a fun date night for you and Scott.”

“Guys, _**enough**_!” Scott bellows.

Derek and Stiles quiet down and Stiles wipes at a stray tear in an angry rush.

Scott helps Stiles stand up and brush off before murmuring, “you shouldn’t have said all that, dude.”

“ _He_ should’ve been honest.”

“I _am_ being honest!” Derek insists, frustration crystal clear.

Scott scowls at him to be quiet, communicating ' _now is not the time - just let me speak for you before this gets even more out of hand,_ ' and then Scott says to Stiles, “Really, Stiles. You should have -”

“I _should_ have let him drown.”

A few things happen simultaneously in the following seconds that Stiles has never before experienced.

First, he has never regretted saying something _as_ he was saying it, but he can feel the churn of guilt and regret in his stomach as the words leave his mouth. All it takes is imagining it - thinking of Derek floating to the bottom of that pool, paralyzed, lungs full of chlorine, feeling justified in never having trusted Stiles, probably feeling betrayed anyway... he regrets it as he's said it.

Second, he has never witnessed a person lose respect for him the way it shows in Scott’s expression when his insult is out. It's like a light goes out across Scott's face - Scott's brows curve in, his eyes and mouth all too clearly communicating, 'that was too far to take this.' Or, more to the point, 'I thought you were better than that.'

Third, he has never seen such open hurt in Derek’s eyes before.

It’s horribly apparent, splayed open like a cadaver and it cuts into Stiles, sharp as a razor. His heart drops and the pain in Derek’s eyes is quickly masked by a stoicism that Stiles realizes used to be there constantly. He is unsure of when that stoicism gave way to readable emotion, he is unsure of when Derek started letting him _in_ , but he’s only reminded of how cold and far away Derek _used to_ feel when Derek’s face closes off again. Like he may never let Stiles back in.

Fourth, Stiles has never before felt so utterly betrayed by _himself_.

Derek's face is impossible to read, eyes and body all reading loud and clear, 'this is private property.'

His hands hang uselessly at his sides, no longer fisted in anger, but loose with defeat. He looks Stiles in the eye once before mumbling, “maybe you should have."

He waits a beat before turning and leaving.

“Wait -” Stiles starts softly, his heart lurching and his feet involuntarily moving after Derek’s retreating silhouette, “Wait, I -”

“Stiles,” Scott interrupts.

Stiles looks to him and Scott tells him while watching Derek’s back, “Stiles, just let him go. He won’t help us. Not this time.”

Stiles bites the inside of his cheek, flexing his fingers like they hurt.

“Don’t worry,” Scott assures, “We’ll find Lydia.”

Stiles can’t even be bothered to meet Scott’s eyes, because all he can see is Derek walking away; out of the Pack and out of his life.


	2. I Just Keep Hoping That Your Heart Opens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Things you said with too many miles between us."

Derek rushes to their aid at the eleventh hour, because that’s how Derek’s stories always go. He doesn’t speak to Stiles and he only grunts in varying degrees of pain and agreement towards Scott - Scott doesn't seem to take it personally. The first real sentence Stiles actually hears come out of Derek is when he’s got Lydia in his big arms and he asks Lydia softly and sincerely, “are you okay?”

And when Lydia nods weakly in response, rope burns around her arms, neck and ankles, Stiles is absurdly rushed with jealousy. He wants Derek to ask _him_ if he’s okay, he wants Derek to care about _him_ and come to _his_ rescue, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to need Derek to rescue him and he knows very well that he has no place feeling jealous of anyone for anything.

The underside of his skin is still prickly with guilt and his hands feel small and useless in the face of Derek’s strength. Lydia clings onto Derek perhaps a bit more than is totally necessary, but Stiles doesn't blame her; he'd want to stay in the stronghold of Derek's arms for as long as possible if he ever found his way there. Nevertheless, Derek leaves once Lydia is safely in Scott’s care and he doesn’t say a word. No one asks where he’s going either.

Stiles blinks, maybe taps his pencil against his desk a few times and then it’s been a month since any of the Pack has seen Derek or heard from him and he has no idea where that time has gone.

No one mentions the fight and no one even questions Derek’s disappearance in all that time. The silence grates on Stiles’ nerves.

And one day at lunch, he breaks.

“Do you think Derek is coming back?”

Scott pauses in taking a bite out of his sub. He lowers it down back towards the table and glances toward Lydia. She shrugs and Kira doesn’t provide much help either.

“Uhm,” Scott says, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, “I dunno, man. I’m sure he’s fine wherever he is. You know he can take care of himself.”

Stiles stares hard at the lunch table and mutters, “he actually used his strength against me.”

Scott sighs and says, “Well… not that it was right of him, but you were sort of poking a sleeping tiger with a stick, Stiles.”

Stiles hums in half-hearted agreement and Scott continues, "you should make an apology to him.”

Stiles scoffs; not really out of pride, but out of disbelief that Derek would even hear him out for an apology. He can’t really imagine what that conversation would be like.

He wonders what Derek would look like - would he look proud? Vengeful? Pitying? Disgusted? Confused? Stiles wonders what he looks like when accepting an apology.

Then it occurs to him that maybe no one has ever offered Derek one before.

That makes Stiles stomach twist - not because it's an unpleasant thought, but because it's highly likely.

“I love you, man, but you get way too personal in fights.”

Stiles looks up to Scott again and Scott smiles wearily at him.

“I know it’s cathartic to get all that anger out of you and I know that deep down, you don’t mean the things you said. But, you sort of… make light of really shitty stuff when you’re mad. Like that time you told Isaac he was milking his abusive childhood or when you told Ethan and Aiden they were the bitches of their Packs because they were abused. I love you, dude, but you sort of suck when it comes to sensitivity.”

Stiles believes that and even agrees with the assessment. He nods and looks down at his tray.

“I mean, you basically blamed Derek for being assaulted by Kate. He’s fucked up enough as it is, you know? He probably _does_ blame himself.”

Raking his hands through his hair, Stiles sighs and says resolutely, “fuck. Okay. Okay, you’re right. I know you are, I just... I’ll apologize.”

Scott smiles and assures, “I bet it will mean a lot to him to hear that. He's not super emotional or anything, but I bet that apology will go far for a guy like him.”

Stiles nods and takes out his phone.

He sends the first text.

**Stiles: Hey can we talk?**

By dismissal that day, there’s no answer.

He texts again that night.

**Stiles: hey, are you around?**

Two days later, there’s still no response.

Stiles starts to panic in AP History that Derek is being tortured somewhere.

The horrible nightmare-daydream strikes him and then it won't leave him alone. What if Derek's hurt somewhere?

He leaves class to run outside into the parking lot and give Derek a call.

It rings twice and then goes to voicemail.

Stiles knows what that means and he's hurt, offended and sad all at once.

**Stiles: dude did you just see me calling and reject my call??**

**Stiles: you’re such a dick - i’m just trying to make sure you’re alive since you’re not answering my texts**

**Stiles: Derek???**

**Stiles: you're being an asshole. pick up.**

Giving Derek a good ten minutes to reply to the text, Stiles eventually sighs in frustration and goes back to class. Stiles’ hand rests on his phone in his jean pocket the rest of the day, but it never vibrates.

When he’s sitting in the Jeep in his driveway, he tries to call Derek again. It rings once and then a neutral voice announces dispassionately,

**“The subscriber you are trying to reach is not available at this time.”**

Blocked.

Stiles stares down at his phone in abject bewilderment, his jaw slack and his ears ringing with the loud dial tone playing from his speaker.

He opens up a new message to Scott.

**Stiles: HE BLOCKED ME**

**Stiles: THAT MOTHERFUCKER BLOCKED MY NUMBER**

**Stiles: I CAN’T BELIEVE HE FUCKING BLOCKED ME**

**Stiles: HE FUCKING BLOCKED ME, SCOTT**

**Scott: :( dude that sucks**

**Scott: how are you sure it’s blocked?**

**Stiles: IT DID THE WHOLE ‘WHOEVER YOU’RE TRYING TO REACH IS NOT AVAILABLE THING’**

**Stiles: OMG I AM SO MAD RN**

**Stiles: WHAT IF I WAS DYING???**

**Stiles: WHAT IF I WAS LYING IN A DITCH SOMEWHERE AND CALLED HIM TO RESCUE ME AND HE W AS TOO BUSY BE ING A FUCKING DICK TO ANSWER ME**

**Scott: bro relax**

**Scott: I’ll let you use my phone tomorrow k?**

**Stiles: thanks Scott.**

**Stiles: …I just can’t believe he blocked me.**

**Scott: you hurt him pretty bad**

**Scott: derek's not super at a lot but he's got the /building walls around himself/ thing down pretty well**

Stiles groans in aggravation and bangs his head against his steering wheel for a few minutes before slumping dejectedly inside.

 

* * *

 

Scott forgets about their conversation by the next day and Stiles is still too angry with being blocked to make mention of it. He lets two more weeks slide by before asking to borrow Scott’s phone. For the illusion of privacy, Stiles locks himself in his Jeep while Scott talks to Lydia across the parking lot.

It rings once.

Twice.

Three times.

“Scott?”

Stiles freezes, heart racing. Derek’s voice sounds so different on the phone, but it’s still familiar and homey and it’s laced with real concern and it's been so long since he heard it. It's been, what? Two months? Something like that - too long. It's been too long and hearing Derek is like hearing a ghost.

“Scott, are you okay?”

Stiles goes to say that he’s not Scott, but all the words get backed up in his throat and he can’t utter a sound. His hands start to shake, his mouth opens, but nothing happens. Shame and regret is duct tape suffocating him. He hears a shuffle over the line, like Derek is throwing on his jacket and opening a door.

“Where are you? Scott? Can you tell me where you are? If you can't speak, just send me your GPS location, I'll -”

“I’m sorry.”

The silence is deafening.

Stiles hears Derek’s movements and shuffling stop completely and Stiles is pretty sure he's stopped breathing. 

“I just wanted to say so. I just… I just wanted to tell you. I’m not gonna… I’m not even going to try to defend what I did. That was fucked up and… I’m sorry.”

Derek remains quiet and Stiles intakes sharply, everything feeling shallow and paper thin. Unreal.

“I didn’t mean to wait this long to tell you, but… I got scared? I don’t even know. It's like, I got scared to talk to you at all and the more time passed, the harder it got to think about trying to talk to you? I didn't mean for... I just… I don’t want you to leave, Derek.”

He clears his throat, willing his voice not to crack.

“I don’t want you to be gone. And… I don’t know if… I could stand being the reason you leave.”

When there’s no response, Stiles begins to worry that Derek has long hung up on him. If he were Derek, it's what he'd do.

He can't bear the thought of being the reason Derek leaves Beacon Hills for good, though. Murder, unbearable sacrifice, alienation, family annihilation, abuse and pain of the most acute kind couldn't keep Derek away from Beacon Hills, but Stiles using those things against Derek like a lashing might do just that.

He shuts his eyes, leans his forehead against his steering wheel, keeping Scott’s phone clasped tightly in his hands.

“Will you forgive me?”

Stiles pushes his forehead heavily onto the wheel, keeping his eyes shut. He tries to imagine Derek’s face, what his bold eyebrows might be doing, what his mouth might look like, whether his arms are crossed defensively or hanging by his sides vulnerably. He can't imagine it, though - his brain can't even decide what Derek might be wearing or looking like at that very moment and his mind just draws this terrible, mocking blank.

The quiet murmur of the parking lot outside his car is starting to wear on his sanity and he opens his mouth to speak through the silence again when he hears, “yes.”

Stiles’ eyes fly open and he gazes down at the phone in his hand. Tears of relief spring from his eyes and he smiles, “whoa - _wow_ , okay. Thank you - _thank you_. I’m, uh - I’m… I’ll _never_ do that again. I never _want_ to hurt you, I just - you seem so untouchable, you know? And I forget that you are hurt-able, you know? I used you like a punching bag and that’s the shittiest thing ever and I’ll never do that again, dude, okay? I love you, I don’t wanna hurt you or drive you away or make you think you’re not part of the Pack or something - which, I'm not trying to assume my opinion is that important to you in regard to the Pack or anything, I just don't know _how_ I made you feel other than _hurt_ and anything _that_ morphed into is my fault and I'm sorry about it and you helped us anyway - even after everything I said, you came and we couldn't have gotten Lydia out of there safely without your help and you knew that and helped us - helped _me_ \- despite everything which is… I just…”

He sighs deeply and finishes, “I’m just really sorry, Derek.”

“You love me?”

Derek’s voice is so suddenly clear that Stiles jumps in his seat and swivels his head around to check that he’s not in the car.

“What? Where are you? What?”

“I’m in Mexico. You said -”

“You’re in _Mexico_? Are you _crazy_? Wasn’t your last visit enough to chase you away forever? Mexico is _bad_ juju for you, dude! Get outta there! You ran away to _Mexico_ because I was a dick? Oh man, I must be the biggest dick in the fuckin’ universe. Do you want me to look up flights for you to come back? I can pick you up at the airport - shit, I’ll come pick you up in fuckin’ Mexico if you need me to. I’ve made the drive for you before, after all. I would totally do that again. Like, a thousand times again. Eternity times again. Whatever you need, man, I'll be there - waaaiiiitttt - you probably took your car, didn’t you? Are you going to drive back, then? Where are you even staying? Are you safe? Oh my God, I didn’t even ask you — are you okay -”

“Stiles.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you love me?”

Stiles swallows a hot lump in his throat and rubs at his wrist with his free hand.

“I - why would, I mean -”

Derek sighs with something like a half-laugh and he mutters, “alright, don’t hurt yourself.”

His heart rate rising, Stiles panics and rushes in, “no - wait - yes, I - I mean… I mean, yes. I just… dude, we’re doing this on the _phone_? While you’re in _Mexico_? This is _terrible_ , dude. I… I don’t wanna do this when you’re far away.”

He can hear a smile in Derek’s voice when he answers, “alright. I’ll head home.”

“That — that’s it?” Stiles asks disbelievingly, “That’s… that’s all I had to say?”

“The ‘you’re sorry,’ part or the ‘you love me,’ part?”

“I - you - shut it!” Stiles stammers nervously, heat climbing up his face, “You — the _sorry_ part!”

“Yeah.”

Stiles stares at the phone in awe and mutters, “wow.”

“For the record, I’m sorry I put my hands on you. That… wasn’t acceptable. There's never reason for that and... I'm a little too worried about the answer to ask if I hurt you.”

Stiles heart bumps and bleeds affection. He smiles fondly at the screen, his eyes low and dreamy.

“Yeah, I… it’s okay. It knocked some sense into me. I don’t blame you for a second, really. I was -”

“Do you still feel safe with me?”

Stiles pauses, taking note of the grave tone of Derek’s voice.

There's so much he's not saying in that small sentence he _is_ saying. 

“Yeah, Derek,” Stiles answers certainly, “I know you’d never… I know. Can, uhm… can you trust me again?”

“I do.”

Stiles’ stomach is swarmed with butterflies while he daydreams about hearing Derek say that in a completely different context. He covers his heart with his hand like he’s trying to smother his fantasies away.

“Uhm - thanks. I… thanks.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

“Uhm - wait - maybe… maybe you can text me during your ride back? Let me know how far you are and stuff? If… I mean, if you’ll unblock me?”

“Yeah,” Derek replies, “I’ll let you know when I stop for gas along the way. And I'll unblock you. Which I'm sorry about, by the way.”

"I'd have done it too if our situations were switched, honestly - I don't hold it against you. Anything I haven't addressed? That I should just... apologize for now?"

There's a brief silence and then Derek murmurs, "just... my jacket belonged to my dad. It was my dad's. I know more of the things you said to me should bother me more, but -"

"I'm literally the worst," Stiles decides out loud.

He can just see it - a young Derek, too small to fill that big jacket, but so deep in mourning that he refuses to take it off and it occurs to Stiles that that's probably why the sleeves always looked a touch too long on Derek. And he called it _stupid_.

"I'm so sorry, Derek. It's not... I was picking on you. I take it back - a billion times over, seriously. Would it help if I told you that you're actually like super handsome in that jacket?"

Derek gives a short, huffy laugh and then says, "yeah. That helps. Thank you, Stiles."

Stiles nods, though Derek can’t see it.

“See you soon,” Derek repeats.

“See you soon,” Stiles responds.

There’s a few hesitant moments of silence, but then Derek’s end beeps off and Stiles is left grinning dumbly at Scott’s phone.

Stiles may be a Spark and he’s been possessed before, but he’s never felt quite as powerful as when he realizes, with a few words, he can send Derek away. And with even fewer, summon him back.

And maybe with just three, he’ll have the power to keep Derek beside him forever.


End file.
